


frat house perks

by dovesong



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Barebacking, Beer as Lube, Cock Slut Park Jimin (BTS), Cock Warming, Dirty Talk, Enthusiastic Consent, Gangbang, M/M, Object Insertion, Spit Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:20:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29323092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovesong/pseuds/dovesong
Summary: well..
Relationships: Kim Namjoon | RM/Park Jimin, Park Jimin (BTS)/Everyone
Comments: 5
Kudos: 70





	frat house perks

it’s game day at delta phi, which means beer by the bucketful, obnoxious alt rock burbling finger-shredding solos through the walls, and cargo shorts without boxers underneath, sacks swinging free and easy and leaving stains on the leather eight-seater. the whole house stinks of raucous boy, but there’s something else to it, something darker. game day usually riles them all up but it’s not just meathead competition or counting up petty cash in solo cups.

most of the guys woke up with morning wood and let the tension roll a little longer. they all know they’ve got something way better than their own hands to take care of it.

namjoon drew several short straws when it came to his schedule this semester and it’s got him pissed off at everything: wide-eyed freshmen not knowing how to aim, chungha saying she wants an open relationship so she can screw her roommate more frequently without feeling so guilty, his hard drive complaining about storage every five minutes. his dick feels like the least of his problems when it’s probably the cause of it, barely time in the day to jerk off.

there’s a solution to that he hasn’t been looking at. nose in a book. if it weren’t for how jacked he’s kept up, he’d be a sore thumb at this frat, but he’s got tiddies for days at least so says the big man matthew himself yells across campus as often as he can.

joon’s always wondered if he had a crush on him. absently, obviously. because joon’s as straight as they come (despite the fact that he hasn’t. in a while).

so he walks in from class, shrugs the book bag keeping his triceps hench with how heavy the courseload is this year, and wants to just relax into his usual place on the couch and scroll through porn gifs on twitter while the game goes on.

but instead he walks in on jimin bent over the counter, his moans caught in his throat while the brim of his backwards cap scrapes the cheap pen scribbles on his back: free use (any hole, all day).

jooheon doesn’t stop pounding into jimin’s already loose-sounding hole, but jimin takes a second to look up at joon and have the presence of mind to blush.

joon ignores him and sighs. jooheon’s grip tightens around jimin’s hips and he sinks in deep nine inch strokes like he’s rowing olympic crew across the finish line before he purses his lips and makes a sound like a trainwreck, pulling out and getting cum on the floor.

it’s satisfying watching jimin flop onto the counter, cock still hard and bobbing between the drawers on the kitchen island.

joon doesn’t let that show though. just picks up a cold one and cracks it against the faux marble, top coming off easy right near jimin’s tiny waist.

“better clean that up tonight, honeyboy.”

“why wait?” jooheon leers back, apparently not getting that joon means the linoleum; he grins and licks up jimin’s ass and joon looks away as jimin’s forehead thuds back down while he whimpers.

the door into the living room is right there so joon runs away as slowly and casually as possible.

~

something that the guys in delta phi seem to barely remember anymore is that none of them really liked jimin when he first transferred in. it had been eunwoo’s call because jimin’s dad and his dad were orchestrating some merger, but it was purely nepotistic business savvy. eunwoo had shown jimin his room on the first day and didn’t speak to him again until he graduated.

park jimin to everyone else was everything they strove as a frat house not to be seen as; a total fucking try-hard. coming in with chains that were so real they looked fake, basketball jerseys three sizes too big for teams he didn’t support, and an attitude way too hard for such a soft face.

no hazing allowed either, that was the rule. they’d waited til eunwoo was gone but even then that was his parting bullshit; telling jimin right in front of all of them that he should tell him if they ever gave him grief. at the time jimin had looked straight down at his shoes, like a single look would’ve given something away.

eunwoo’s warning had only half worked though. tension in the house heightened, especially when scoups took house leader unanimously and he broke up with stacey who’d lingered on jimin while waiting for a round of cod to finish too many times to be innocent. after that it was a quiet game of keeping him at arm’s length until, surprise of all surprises, he’d been found with a guy in his room. some guy (a nerdy kind of hot) who wasn’t even greek, a guy he’d modelled for in art class - taehyung something - that wanted his muse to suck his dick after.

the atmosphere changed pretty quick after that. contrary to popular belief, the delta phi’s prided themselves on being as laid back as possible to counter the whole meathead bit. it’s why jimin’s initial aggro had been such a fucking pain.

but when he got caught and nothing happened, he loosened up while the rest of the house held its breath. jimin was gay, and he kept bringing guys over, though he gave them all a little more of a heads up.

when it was time to shift rooms around, somehow joon ended up next to him on the third floor. chungha had started having some pavlovian response to the sound of jimin’s moans, because it signalled that joon would fuck her like a dog, the way she was always scared of asking him to.

she never asked why joon would go so crazy like that. he never asked why she kept smelling like her roommate. it was a happy medium.

but it reached a head in the summer, of course, when shirtless was the uniform and exam stress was getting everyone in their own heads and rutting into their mattresses at night. joon was lucky, wonwoo too, because at least they had girlfriends. the rest of the house smelt like haze of wet musk all the time and it was… heady.

changgu was adamant about watching some action guy sylvester stallone marathon so he was already hours deep into the second predator or whatever when everybody else that was free made their way into the living room to decompress to shlock-y bloodshed and bulging pecs. why else bother with such an immaculate audio set-up?

as much as he wishes he didn’t, he remembers clearly how hard jaehyun was when some sex scene popped up. for a guy that never had to scroll for a bootycall or try hard for some easy pussy, it barely took a nip slip to get the guy rock solid and sometimes he’d just jerk off if there weren’t that many of them around. there’d been some precedent set while he was still a pathetically horny freshman, the kind of thing he hadn’t grown out of because no one had shamed him early enough. the older guys found it funny for some reason.

either way, when he got hard, in amongst the violence, he stuck his hand into his sleep pants and started jerking it. conspicuously so he couldn’t be heard over the score, over the movie, but someone still noticed.

“want some help with that?”

jimin’s voice was like a bell but none of them turned around. jaehyun didn’t even speak. the leather squeaked as he leaned back and then it was the sound of jimin’s mouth on him, keeping his moans soft and minimal but. but.

jooheon was the first to break. “fuck.” that’s all it had taken. suddenly all of joon’s frat brothers that had migrated to the living room had their dicks out and were coaxing themselves to hardness watching jimin swallow around jaehyun like a seasoned whore.

it was like a dream. jimin wiping his mouth, slick with spit and jaehyun’s mealy cum still sticking to his lips, looking up to see the guys that had flooded the bathroom tiles that morning waving their cocks in his face.

the worst part was how he’d looked over at joon because he hadn’t moved from his spot. he hadn’t taken his dick out. the rest of the guys, post-nut obviously, had laughed. official story was joon was just too pussy-whipped by chungha. joon was fine with that narrative. he hadn’t been fine with how he could feel jimin watching him as he struggled to take two dicks in his mouth at once, jooheon and brady too greedy and impatient for a hot mouth. for those lips.

joon had just changed the channel to a documentary on underwater caves. changgu had dozed off with his dick soft and still hanging out.

it set a precedent. and jimin fucking loved it.

~

“pass the nuts, i need some salt,” wonwoo sulks, pulling his beanie low over his greasy hair only to curve it round his ears so his glasses don’t fall off.

seungcheol noogies him too fast for him to dodge and everyone yells at the screen as some rookie linebacker fumbles and loses skin.

in the quiet, jimin comes back in still chugging from a crumpled bottle of water. when he pulls away with a sigh only a handful of heads in the room turn to see how disheveled he is after four, maybe five, goes. (joon wasn’t really watching the game. that’s always his excuse.)

other than the hickeys and bruises littering his neck, his hips, his left nipple which connor’s always partial to, other than the sign smudged yet legible on his back, he just looks like the rest of them usually do on a sunday morning. hungover with a side of bedhead and still kinda sleepy/horny.

but the boys in here. they treat him differently and he knows it with the sway of his hips, the way his ass jiggles where he hasn’t bothered to pull his boxers all the way over the swell of his cheeks. he’s still hard and small enough he’s not peeking anywhere.

he’s ruddy in his cheeks. like he’s been running.

wonwoo’s pissed off enough that he leans over the back of the couch without taking his eyes off the tv, yells at jimin, “get over here man.”

so jimin goes, sinks to his knees while wonwoo settles in, eyes fluttering shut as the crease in his brow smooths out. pure contentment. jimin has that effect on most of them, keeps them quiet, happy, calm. frat house chapstick.

then the jeering starts, only a couple of them, only the few that have had jimin the most are cocky enough to mouth off about it. not about jimin, but about the way he makes you feel, the way his hands feel on you, the way your cock stands to attention with a flick of his tongue just there, yeah, there baby, _fuck_. the couple of pledges that are too straight to get why this is happening but green enough to just sit there and shut up watch too, laugh a little though it’s unclear what the joke is.

desire. that’s the punchline.

jooheon loves it though, probably enjoys the humiliation - both ways - as much as he enjoys licking his own spunk out of jimin’s pink little asshole. “ay wonwoo, your girl not giving it up so much anymore?”

someone else hisses like he’s stubbed his toe, “damn but sowon looks like she gives great head man, c’mon.”

joon just keeps refreshing his timeline, hoping some bullshit thread comes up. honeyboy has that squashed-up little smile, the one that means he’s still dazed and horny but has to wait his turn, eyes following the smooth line of jimin bobbing without needing to breathe.

“yeah but look at you, balls blue as fuck man, balls fucking blue and bout to bust!”

everybody laughs at that, even wonwoo pulling his beanie down over his glasses. “man shut the fuck up, i’m lit okay, i’m lit, don’t fucking look at me…”

but he’s smiling, adam’s apple like a boat on rocky seas as he tries to keep his moans to a minimum, but it’s no use. it never is. jimin’s way too good for that.

there’s a chorus of slaps and zips pulled down as more and more of them are already getting themselves ready. it seems stupid to do this when the game’s barely started, and the sign does say all day after all, but… well. aren’t sports always pretence for this?

jaehyun’s quick on the step despite an abject lack of seniority because he’s just that brazen and because he brings his own lube, getting behind jimin and pulling his boxers just low enough that his dick’s still covered but his asshole is exposed to tom brady and the rest of the patriots. they should be so lucky, any of them, as jaehyun is spitting on his own dick with terrifying accuracy before pushing right into jimin’s loose hole. jaehyun sighs and the rest of the room hums and leers with him like echoes.

jimin groans and wonwoo’s dick pops audibly out of his mouth until wonwoo’s sneering, “did i say you could stop bitch?” he shoves jimin’s face back down and it’s too rough, almost to the point where joon would intervene but he knows from experience that jimin hates when they’re all fragile with him. he likes this. likes the shamelessness of it. the brash lurid casualness. it gets him hard. it makes him powerful.

so joon listens as wonwoo stabs into jimin’s throat, thrusting like a jackhammer where he’d let jimin mouth over him lazily just seconds before. jaehyun’s keeping it remarkably slow and chill, hard thrusts pushing jimin up and up until he’s directly over wonwoo’s cock as he fucks up into him, bodies curves like apostrophes into each other.

wonwoo comes down jimin’s throat and slaps him for it, shoving him aside for scoups to drag him up by the neck over the back of the couch, jaehyun picking him up from the back til his knees hit the cushions and he’s fucking him like that, scoups dick hammering into his throat as hard as jaehyun’s hitting him from the back. two of the pledges are jerking off and trying to muscle in on that mouth too but scoups is thick as a lager can so they have no chance even if they weren’t packing heavy meat themselves.

joon’s put his phone away because god. jimin is a sight. his eyes are streaming with tears, drool and cum running down his chin, lips puffy and red from the abuse, and his asshole probably doesn’t look any better. he’s still so hard.

jaehyun pulls out and johnny pushes in hands free to the cheers of a couple of his roommates. jimin cries out because johnny fucks right in with barely any prep.

“god his taint is so red dude,” johnny laughs and jimin whines around unworthy freshman cock.

he balances his beer in the small of jimin’s back and it barely moves, spilling just a little until someone complains that he’s gonna get it in the couch. “freshman take my fucking beer you little pussy,” he snorts and the freshman is moaning high and loud like this is the best and only blow job he’s ever had (likely), but takes the beer can anyway, his other hand clutching to jimin’s hair for dear life.

the others are shouting instructions now - pull his hair, slap him again, spank his ass, fuck him harder, tie him up - and one after the other they keep passing him around and around, the pen on his back fading with all that sweat, all that shoving and movement, all the hands rubbing his body like that’ll get them off any quicker.

a couple guys stand on the couch so they can keep watching the game without losing their spot, giving commentary on the plays while their balls brush against jimin’s back while he keeps getting fucked into with no mercy, like they’re competing to see who can ruin him the fastest, who can slap balls to thighs like a thunderclap.

“yeah you fucking like that shit, don’t you, slut?”  
  
when there’s a change of guard, someone else coming down jimin’s throat and squeezing his lips like he’d do anything but swallow like he’s swallowed every other load today before they move out the way for another cock to shove its way into him, jimin’s voice is ragged and raw with need. or maybe a lack of water. “yeah~ yeah, fuck, fuck me~”

“so fucking tight for me, fuck.”

“ahh, ahh,” jimin gags on a cock and his moans become muffled again.

matt comes down with his bong looking ungodly levels of faded and almost drops it on the bottom step. “christ. y’all started without big me? bruh! i need a turn, c’mon what the fuck!”

he pauses on his way to jimin, and to their credit, there’s a slight wind-down as everyone starts chatting with each other and getting distracted by the game with their dicks curving up to their bellybuttons, but that stops as soon as matthew swaps out his bong for the duct tape in the sideboard drawer.

first he roughly shoves whoever was inside jimin’s ass out of the way, and everyone laughs as the guy staggers like bambi learning to walk - hoseok or something, he doesn’t even go here - while matthew takes the tape between his teeth and rips it til it’s free, and then he grabs jimin’s wrist and yanks them back. even jimin looks a little startled but he presses his face down and pushes his ass up into big matt’s big fucking boner and whines like he’s in heat. matthew starts winding the tape around his wrists to bind them and it’s- yeah, it’s like. shocking, almost, sweet semi-docile loudmouth matthew with this cold clear look under the fog of his high, binding beautiful sloppy jimin and holding him by the twists of tape.

when he pushes in, lifting his shirt for everyone to see his sculpted snail trail and how the veins of his dick snake up to his six-pack, no one even moves, no one plugs up jimin’s pretty mouth, so they can bask in the braying cries and whines that matthew fucks out of jimin.

“nobody wanted to be considerate with his pussy and now you’re all quiet huh?” matthew huffs, pulling the edge of his shirt over his neck so it’s a bright orange harness stretching behind his thick neck like a warning. “fuck he’s still so tight, how’s it so fucking tight?”

he thrusts hard and picks up a half finished beer bottle, lips full around the tip until he has some lightbulb moment and pours a little over his dick, fucking it into jimin’s hole where the bubbles must burn because jimin yelps but keeps pushing back onto matthew’s fat cock all the same.

egged on, the guys that are sated watch, naked and getting drunk on the pheremones, on the game, on jimin, on cheap beer, and the same instructions keep slipping and sliding over each other until it’s one clear command: shove it inside.

so matthew takes the unfinished beer and pauses fucking for just a moment to edge it, squeeze the tip of it alongside his cock and the pop of it makes the whole room flip, everyone whooping, someone filming until joon slaps their phone down to the ground because jesus fuck that’s a scandal waiting to happen. like jimin doesn’t have dreams or ambitions beyond being their house slut, beyond getting his ass reamed in broad daylight on the lord’s day, on game day while touchdowns play second fiddle to his filthy moans and his filthier mouth and his deep longing eyes and his hickeyed skin on full technicolour display. jimin is more than this and this is still everything to every single guy in here. these fucking shits should be on _their_ knees.

“stop, stop, don’t, he’ll rip!” changgu whines like matthew’s just spilling beer on the couch. jimin pants through it but he’s still pushing back into matthew’s hands. putty.

matthew just smacks both jimin’s ass cheeks in succession, grinning around something secretive that makes joon boil. “nah. bitch like this could take three quarterbacks in this pussy, easy.” he looks around dazed, fucking in as the beer tips inside and drips out of jimin’s ass with every thrust. it can’t be comfortable but you’d think matthew’s seeing nirvana anyways. “hey freshie, tape his dick to his belly for me would you?” and the idiot does, rushing to do it.

“shit, shit, god, ahh!” jimin whimpers, hips wiggling to seek out some comfort while his cock doesn’t even get relief bobbing against his abs. “right there, fuck…”

with a few more thrusts, matthew pushes the bottle almost to the end right inside and jimin screams. someone tries to plug his mouth up but instead they pull at his cheeks and slap and laugh when he starts crying, tongue stuck out as they all spit on him.

“fuck, it’s too cold…” matthew growls out, pulling the bottle back out and sniffing at it, grossed out by the white globs of frat boy cum sloshing around in the beer. it’s fucking nasty, even for them, and he laughs. shoves it in jimin’s face, and he can’t even push it away, tells him, “drink it, go on, it’s your favourite.”

jimin grimaces and a few of the others echo how grossed out they are but someone tries to tip the bottle straight into jimin’s mouth.

so joon stands up, takes it, and pushes it into a waiting pledge’s hand, the one that taped jimin’s dick down. “drink up, freshie. there you go.” thankfully the energy gets twisted into that, into making mark with the pastor for a daddy and a choir girl for a fuckbuddy to drink his first beer laced with delta phi cum.

but matthew’s sweet and sharp enough to notice. “you wanna replace the bottle joonie? finally get your dick wet?”

jimin doesn’t look up, his arms straining where they hold himself up from the couch, and… his hands look pink. almost cold. and there are too many wolfish stares, at his nipples, at his mouth, at his tattoos lacing his lovely side. and chungha doesn’t want him anymore. and jimin always looks for him because they don’t touch, not like this.

~

after the first time it was like the world hung on a single thread, thin as silk. namjoon thought his life was over honestly. how could he justify what had happened that night? did jimin regret it? did he hate their house? him? he didn’t do anything but… he also didn’t _do_ anything. that’s worse. he’s always learned that that’s worse.

and they were next door to each other. practically roommates. jimin liked sex, he knew that better than anyone, even better than the string of guys jimin brought in for company, but that wasn’t grounds for jimin to get his mouth used like a gloryhole on movie night.

namjoon had brought him a clean towel and some slippers and the bruise cream chungha had left in his room after a swim meet left her thigh yellow and blue, and he knelt down at jimin’s sleeping figure and tried to find some absolution.

he rubbed the cream into his knees, his arms where he’d been grabbed, his neck where he’d been choked.

and he could barely keep the tears to himself. jimin was asleep, so it was fine. he’d wiped off the cum and the sweat and tried to cover jimin up but-

“what are you doing?”

“um.”

“did you-?” jimin snorted. “oh. hey.” he looked up at joon and smiled with all his teeth, eyes disappearing into his cheeks. “wow. that’s so nice.”

“i brought you a robe.”

“i thought you hated me,” jimin says casually, pulling the terry-cloth belt closed over his waist.

joon had shrugged. hoped his eyes weren’t red. “i don’t.”

“thanks,” jimin had said. looked to his crotch. “you don’t wanna-?”

“i have a girlfriend.”

“didn’t stop wonwoo.”

“wonwoo’s shit.”

jimin laughed like bells. “yeah. his cum tastes nice though.”

and joon had laughed too. “you’re okay?”

with a simple, contented smile, a cat’s smile, a self-satisfied smile, “better than okay.”

~

but they didn’t touch, even when joon would reach out against his better interests. but now, here, with almost twenty jeering assholes, and matthew balls deep inside jimin, joon’s hands itch.

“c’mon man, he’s gaping after that bottle, just slip in, c’mon i know you want to.” he pulls jimin up with the flat of his hand so he can make room for joon to sit down on the couch and he gets some cheers. “i heard you and chungha broke up.”

he hears a couple ‘oh fuck sorry man’s that seem hollow given the circumstances, but jimin at least looks down at him. eyes shiny. joon hates how beautiful he thinks he is like this. how perfect the light hits jimin in the mornings in the kitchen, how he laughs like a maniac when someone slips on the water he’s left on the hallway after he’s dripped everywhere post-shower, how outside of this- this thing that he does, he listens to you when you’re hurting, how excited he gets about dance and pure maths and poetry and manta rays-

he sits on the couch and looks up at jimin, pulling his jeans down enough that his cock, hard since he walked in here, bobs out and he pumps it with some precum before matthew grabs it sans ceremony and pops the head inside jimin’s waiting hole.

just as he slides in far too easily, he hears jimin’s whimpers taper out into a gentle sigh. he flops onto joon’s shoulders and he can feel his teary cheek grin against his day-old stubble.

hears him whisper, “thank god it’s you,” right as his cock hits home and settles right where jimin wants him, deep inside like he’s been waiting as long as joon has.

his whines are like a song and in this moment he doesn’t understand how it’s taken him so long to have this, but jimin looks down at him with so much relief, so much- something, something unbelievable, something you don’t find in a frat house train fuck except he does because it’s here, undeniable as the sun.

joon’s heart thunders because it would be wrong to kiss him here so he wraps a thumb around the head of jimin’s dick where it’s peeking out beyond the duct tape. matthew keeps fucking into him and joon holds him close, getting off on the friction and jimin’s pulsing hole alone. he lives for the shuddering sighs jimin gives him, for the way the planes of jimin’s side feel under his hands, for his thighs bracketing his so right.

matthew cums hard inside jimin and he pulls out, rubbing some leftover cum that slips out onto jimin’s back, smearing the letters until they’re gone. “i mean we know, right?” he ruffles jimin’s hair fondly and steps away. “you’re ours.”

trying to ignore that joon holds jimin closer because now without matthew stretching him out, his cock practically glides in and out of jimin’s hole, easy and so devastatingly loose and soft. jimin’s moans rumble deep through his chest and he finds some last bastion of strength to ride joon’s cock like his life depends on it, smiling up at the rest of the house egging him on and cheering, sucking on whichever leftover cock he can reach, smiling around mouthfuls of cum.

joon strokes down jimin’s side and pulls him down into his lap, spits in his hand to jerk him off properly and then, suddenly, like snapped elastic jimin cums hard all over himself, tears streaming and hips stuttering.

he pauses and keeps riding joon, this time focused solely on him. it's like getting private attention from the moon. 

“come on joon, come on baby,” he whispers, “give it to me, gimme your cock, gimme your cum baby, please, please, please, want it, want it so bad baby, please…”

and joon can’t say no, comes hard deep where he’s buried to the hilt inside jimin and they sigh together, groaning as every line of tension ekes out of joon’s dick.

all he can hear is jimin’s and his own heavy breathing until-

“what the fuck is this mr peanut commercial even about? i thought he was dead?”

~

long after the excitement of the day has run down and joon’s back in his room barely able to concentrate on his assignments because he keeps thinking about the way jimin fit just right in his arms, in his lap, on his cock, he hears a knock on his door.

“hey,” jimin says. he’s got a towel piled up on his head, little tufts of ashy blonde bangs sticking out, and the same bathrobe joon gave him a year ago tucked around him. “just um, wanted to check in on you.”

joon scoffs. “me? i’m-”

“feeling shitty about chungha?” jimin guesses and… no. no. furthest possible thing from the truth.

“i…” joon chews his lip. “i’m not that torn up about chungha actually.” he twiddles his pen and it flies out of his hand. “ah. fuck.” he looks up at jimin and gapes. “sorry. i mean. uh. are you okay?”

jimin laughs, a little awkward. “are you?”

“honestly no,” joon says and jimin balks. “i just. i thought i’d kiss you before i…”

“oh.” jimin closes the door behind him. “namjoon.”

his hands frame joon’s face and they’re nose to nose, somehow so much closer than they were this afternoon. jimin’s practically cross-eyed and joon smiles. “you’ve got freckles.”

jimin’s thumb tugs as joon’s ear, embarrassed. “stop looking at me and kiss me.”

they lean in at the same time, lips pressing sweet before joon opens up and lets jimin in. this time it's not a punchline, and he lets jimin feel every wave of his desire until it buries them both. 

**Author's Note:**

> well..


End file.
